


Ammo

by Smauglicious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Dying Sherlock, Gen, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smauglicious/pseuds/Smauglicious
Summary: "She thought that if you put yourself in harm's way, I would rescue you or something. But I didn't, not until she told me too. That's how this works, that's what you're missing."In an alternate ending where Sherlock had not changed the morphine with saline, and John still remained furious.





	

"Go to hell, Sherlock. "

John's eye twitched in disdain. So all of this, the drugs, Molly, Smith, it was all a trick. All over again. John clenched and unclenched his fist, a little unearthed but delighted in the sense that he hadn't fall for it. How could Sherlock? Sherlock wanted him to pity him, save him, he thought wrong. John wasn't going to save Sherlock, it was over between them a long time ago, he wished Sherlock had stayed dead. Mary and him would have gone on, a normal life. 

He clamped his jaw and tightened it, squeezing his eyes shut. He was angered, but some part of him was angered that Mary, /Mary/ would suggest such a thing. He was filled with so much rage that it was unbelievable. He stood still, rooted on the spot, he didn't move. Why should he? He's done with the world, his mind viciously spat out. 

"What are you waiting for!? " Mrs Hudson stared at him horrified. "John! He's with Smith right now! Are you not going to save him? " Mrs Hudson pleaded, trying to get it into John. John stared coldly at her, tilting his head up in an air of defiance. "Why should I? It's a trick, all of it. " He replied, his gaze hardening into cold stone. There was a tense minute, nobody said anything. 

Mrs Hudson gaped at John. She didn't know this man in front of him, so filled with rage, he couldn't even see for himself, what he was doing to himself and the others. She stood up, puffing out her chest as she slapped John on the face, hard. "How dare you! " She hissed, "He's suffering because of you, he's dying, he really is! " Mrs Hudson cried. 

John stilled, his heart jumping, thudding in his chest as the image flashed across his mind. Sherlock, stone cold on the ground, blood everywhere, no pulse. He gritted his teeth, he hated Sherlock but he- He wouldn't be able to take another dead detective. John growled feral as he slammed the door and ran. Ran his way towards the lying detective. 

It was locked, John smashed the door open with the fire extinguisher, the blood buzzing and rushing into his ears. "What. The. Fuck!? " He stilled at the scene as he yelled, dragging Smith away from Sherlock. Sherlock was deathly pale. It was like the first time John had actually seen Sherlock, had a good look at Sherlock, his best friend, not, the man who killed his wife. It was horrifying, his insides turned as he walked slowly towards Sherlock. 

He was so so still, not moving, and those bloody injuries. It looked bad, and John was the one that did that to him. He patted Sherlock awake with his calloused hands, rage filling his system again when Sherlock kept still. Not. Moving. "Trick! You said it was a trick! Wake up! " John growled as he grabbed the collar of Sherlock's flimsy hospital gown, yanking him up and shaking him with a death grip. "Stop TRICKING ME!"

Sherlock opened his eyes with a sudden jerk, his eyes darting everywhere as it landed on John. His eyes wide as his jaw slackened, looking at John, his eyes wild. He flinched as he looked down at John's fist on his collar, "I- Wha? " He scrambled to draw information from his brain, afraid of making John even more angry than he was. 

John relaxed his demeanor slightly as he checked Sherlock over, he seemed clammy with sweat, excessive sweating, gulping as he licked his dry cracked lips. "What-" John clamped his mouth shut as he drew in a breath slowly, willing himself not to shout at Sherlock. "What did he do to you? " He asked his grip slowly loosening. 

"Oh. " Sherlock slumped against the bed, his trembling hand -"Intimate tremor" The words ringing in John's head- carded through his sweat matted hair. "Just being choked and positively drugged by Morphine, four times the normal amount. " Sherlock drawled, seemingly defeated. He had said that he wanted to be killed after all, it was nobody's fault but his. "I'm dying John, dying. " He whispered, his body on fire, every part of it itching, his own skin burning. 

John stilled, his lips thinned as he looked at Sherlock, his eyes narrowing. No one said a word. "This is a trick. You're kidding, and it's not funny. I've seen Mary's /video/ Sherlock, 'go to hell'." He mocked. 

"You despise me. " John whispered low, his tone menacing, danger. 

Sherlock's chest lurched at that as he closed his eyes. He was dying, he really was, and there was John, not responding, not replying, as if he didn't care. Well he probably didn't, it was his own fault at that. The boy who lied, he had toyed with John's feelings too many times. Sherlock's throat constricted uncomfortably as he forced himself to breathe, his body on the verge of hyperventilating. He slowly clutched his loose gown, scrunching it up against his chest as he sat up, placing a hand on John's lap. "John. " He rasped, hopelessly, filled with yearning. 

"John, I know you don't want to hear this now. But-" His skin crawled as he dug into it uncomfortably. "I'm so sorry John. I'm so so sorry for the things I've done to you. " He gulped. "And to Mary. " He looked down, feeling his body slowing down, sluggishly. 

"I shouldn't - I shouldn't have met you in the first place, knowing that I'll cause you so much pain. But please John please, forgive me? " His voice cracked, desperation laced in his voice. "Please, please, look at me. " Sherlock pleaded, his hand gripping John's leg, his eyes slowly losing his light. 

He didn't want to die with John like this, in John's arms, but cold, despised. He was scared all of a sudden, it was scary. This, stuff. 

John hesitantly glanced at Sherlock, his pupils dilating as he saw Sherlock pale visibly from few minutes ago. "Sh-sherlock? " John grasped Sherlock's shoulders as he looked, concerned at him. "Sherlock, come on, breathe for me. " He replied fearfully as he shook Sherlock a little more forcibly. Sherlock twitched, his chanting of please and sorry faltering, his eyes glazing over.

"John. " Sherlock breathed in a short breath as he gasped, his insides squirming, his outsides burning and freezing at the same time. "John, I'm so sorry- I've - I've always wanted to tell-" His breath hitched as his mouth opened like a fish out of water. "Jo-" He choked out as he stared wide-eyed at John before his body slumped, eyes rolling back as his arm slipped from his chest and onto the bed. He was limp, against the bed, his body sliding down a little as his neck tilted down to his side. 

"Sherlock? " John widened his eyes in fear, "Sherlock? " He raised his voice a little more, pain lurching in his chest. "No, no more jokes. " He smile pained, desperately, nudging Sherlock, patting his face. "Please. " He looked at the still figure horrified. This was the end wasn't it. Did- did Sherlock Holmes just... Die? Just like that? /In front of him? /

John stared at the slackened face, the pounding of his chest almost impossible as he gasped for breath. It was unbelievably painful, more so that Mary, more so than ANYTHING that he had ever experienced. It hurt, John's life was falling apart. Because no, it wasn't a peaceful face that Sherlock had with him. No, his face, Sherlock's pale, still, face was filled with lingering despair and a silent plea. Because. Because Sherlock had died thinking that John hated him, that John refused to look at him and refused to accept his apology. And it hurt like high hell. 

John choked on his own breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, no, no, no, this couldn't be it. His relationship, his time with Sherlock amplifying and daunting on him as he lowered his head down, his hands coming up to cover his ears. Memories rushing to his head, overflowing, couldn't stop, blood, rage, despair. And the clear reminder, foreboding present in front of him that he could not get rid of. Of how, John Watson had casted Sherlock Holmes aside. 

John Watson had punched and kicked Sherlock before he died, had screamed in his face that it was all a trick, had said that he despised him, and Sherlock had died, not knowing anything else other than the rage John had for him. 

"I didn't - I didn't mean it. " John pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. He regretted now, like never before, he had not appreciated Sherlock like he should have, and now it was too late. Sherlock was gone. 

John squeezed his eyes shut as he took in a slow breath, bitter tears sliding down his eyelids and he bawled, his gasps shuddering, painful. Not enough air. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have-" He gathered the limp man in his arms, his grip rigid, hands clawing at Sherlock's back, uncontrollable. He held Sherlock in his arms, surprised by the small lingering of warmth still there. John buried his head into the crook of Sherlock's shoulders as he shuddered, inhaling Sherlock's fading scent. It was light, musky, sweet and it was so familiar, and he had not treasured it enough. And it was gone, no more blazing blue eyes and the small curl of the lips. He gulped. 

"I never- I never told you... Never thought I would but I loved you. " He whispered, "I really did, always." He tightened his fist as he hugged Sherlock close. 

"I forgive you. Of course I will forgive you. " He whispered, sorely, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Sherlock would wake up if he said these words. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. " His tears continued. 

Sherlock remained silent. 

John screamed. 

Everything was broken. Everything was fading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and comments will make my day. Hope you enjoyed this one shot, that sentence really inspired me. Because I'm sure John would regret saying that if he didn't get to save Sherlock.


End file.
